


Dragon Tales

by TheGameIsOn_Geronimo



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Court Sorcerer Merlin (Merlin), Crack, Dragons, Fluff, Gen, Pets, See maybe I can write nice stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-10-21 09:36:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20691359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGameIsOn_Geronimo/pseuds/TheGameIsOn_Geronimo
Summary: Merlin gets given a dragon egg, and decides that he is more than qualified to handle it without telling anyone. I'm sure you can work out the rest...





	Dragon Tales

**Author's Note:**

> This random idea popped into my head one day, and I just had to write it down, although I did find it quite difficult to make it into a proper one-shot. Anyway, 6000 words later and this is the result - I hope it's okay!  
I don't own Merlin and any mistakes are my own - please feel free to point any out to me!  
I hope you enjoy it! :)

There was an egg on his bed. An egg. On his bed. Which wouldn’t have been a problem if he, as court sorcerer, was allowed to have pets. Unfortunately, due to the pixie (not his fault), centaur (maybe slightly his fault), and basilisk (okay, that one he would take credit for - but he’d sorted it out, hadn’t he?) incidents a new rule had been added to the court sorcerer rule book. One that said NO PETS UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. Which therefore made the egg on his bed a problem.

Merlin sighed slightly, hands landing on his hips as he scowled at the scaled, black egg innocently resting on his blanket. It didn’t move under his scrutiny, and to many people would probably just look like a fairly large, smoothed rock. But to Merlin, it was a Problem. With a capital P.

He hadn’t even deliberately gone looking for it. All he had been doing was helping out the druids with some building and healing and stuff, and the leader had ushered him into his tent and presented an egg. A DRAGON egg. Because, as usual, everyone had been completely wrong and it turned out that there were still a few dragons left in the world. Just his luck. And as a Dragonlord, what else could he do except for thank the man profusely, and take the egg with him back to Camelot?

Once he’d got there however, he hadn’t had a clue what to do with it, and so he was in his current situation. And the issues were starting to be mentioned by the logical part of his mind. Dragon. Camelot. Fire. Angry Arthur. Cute Baby Dragon. Not allowed pets. Merlin frowned harder. Frustratingly, cute baby dragons were a weakness of his and he was pretty sure there was nothing that could make him get rid of the egg. Including an angry king. A very angry king if anything very important got burnt by the dragon.

Merlin sighed in resignation, then stepped forwards and scooped the egg up into his hands. It nestled comfortably into his palms, much smaller than the other dragon egg he had once held. He wondered vaguely if it was a different species, thumbs idly rubbing the ridges and bumps that covered its surface. Carefully he magicked up a small pouch from one of his spare shirts, and dropped the egg into it, before tying it securely around his neck and dropping it under his tunic. He needed to do some research.

***

He had vaguely hoped that Gaius would have a book entitled something along the lines of ‘A Beginner’s Guide to Dragon-Keeping’, but after looking at the spine of every single book on the various shelves in the room, he realised it was not to be and got down to actually looking _in_ the books.

It took him hours to find the barest bits of information, which basically amounted to keep it warm, it will eat meat when it hatches, and something along the lines of there being a few different breeds of dragon, some of which were much bigger than others. Merlin thanked the stars that he had been given a smaller breed, as he wasn’t sure having a dragon the size of Kilgarrah wandering around the castle was very inconspicuous.

Having exhausted all the books he thought might be relevant, he turned to the fire, started one up, and placed the egg carefully among the burning logs. It caused the flames to lick up higher than normal, the black shape obscured by the flickering light and heat. He stared into the fire for a few more minutes, and then got started on dinner.

Which was how Gaius found him a little while later, stirring the stew over the fire. Merlin was sure Gaius had a sixth sense or something for when Merlin was maybe not doing exactly what he should be doing, because he took one look in his direction and instantly asked,

‘What have you done to the fire?’

Merlin frowned, and looked between the merrily roaring fire and his guardian. He shrugged innocently, ‘Nothing. Why?’

Gaius came forwards and started putting away his medicine bottles. ‘It’s bigger than normal.’

‘It’s just very dry wood.’

Gaius glanced his way. An eyebrow slowly rose towards his hairline.

Merlin held up his hands in surrender, as though showing Gaius that he was only holding a spoon would help prove that there was nothing weird about the fire. ‘Honest.’

Gaius sighed. ‘Merlin, what have you done?’

Merlin widened his eyes dramatically, and placed a hand to his chest. ‘Gaius, I am frankly insulted and appalled that you would even think…’

‘Merlin.’ Gaius snapped, losing patience with his wards’ rambling.

‘Dragon egg.’ Merlin instantly squeaked, mouth snapping closed a second later. He watched Gaius cautiously, as Gaius turned very slowly to face him head on. Both of his eyebrows were raised, and Merlin’s mind instantly started chanting _danger, danger, danger_.

‘Excuse me?’ Gaius asked quietly.

Merlin slumped over, and fiddled with his fingers. ‘I have a dragon egg.’

‘A dragon egg?’

‘Yes.’

‘And where, pray tell, did you manage to get that from?’

‘The Druids.’

‘Ah.’ Gaius stated, as though that explained everything. ‘And what are you planning on doing with it?’

‘Um…’

‘Merlin,’ Gaius huffed, ‘You can’t seriously think you can raise a dragon.’

‘Ugh.’

‘You never cease to amaze me,’ Gaius exclaimed, starting on a rant that was sure to take a while. Merlin turned back to the stew, quietly listening as Gaius started in on what the King would say, and how Merlin didn’t have to help every living thing that crossed his path, and _a dragon, Merlin, really?!_

It wasn’t until Merlin interrupted to announce that dinner was ready that Gaius finally stopped his tirade. They sat down together at the table, and Merlin kept his head bowed so he wouldn’t have to see the annoyed or vaguely disappointed or completely exasperated look Gaius was likely sending him.

‘You can’t keep it Merlin.’ Gaius stated quietly.

Merlin sighed. ‘I know. I won’t.’

Gaius hummed in agreement, but Merlin didn’t really think he believed him. Merlin didn’t believe himself either.

***

The next few weeks passed uneventfully. Merlin carefully made sure the dragon egg was never in the fire when Gaius was around, and had cheerfully announced that he was keeping the egg dormant in his wardrobe until he found someone suitable to look after it. Obviously, he wasn’t doing that. Because it was a _dragon_, and he _really wanted_ it to hatch, and it was going to be _so cute_, and also he didn’t trust anyone else to even hold the egg let alone raise a dragon.

Instead, he was keeping it tucked into the pouch hanging around his neck as he went around his daily duties. Near his chest, it would absorb his body heat and stay nice and toasty. So far, no one had noticed the lump under his tunic, and Merlin was feeling very proud of himself.

Everything was going well, until one day he felt the egg thump against his skin. He was busy folding laundry for the King and instantly stilled in his task as he felt the egg shudder again. His heart started to race as he realized the egg must be starting to hatch. He shot a look at the King sitting at his desk looking over reports from the outer villages, and wondered if he would get yelled at if he just walked out.

Carefully and slowly, so as not to alert the King to his movements, he placed down the shirt he was holding, and started to back away towards the door, steps becoming quicker the closer he got.

He was almost at the threshold when there was a sharp bark of ‘Merlin!’ that brought him up short. He looked up to meet the raised eyebrows of the King who was fiddling with his quill.

‘And where do you think you’re going?’ Arthur asked curiously.

‘Um,’ Merlin racked his brains, ‘The kitchens.’ He said decisively, ‘It’s nearly lunchtime.’

Arthur frowned at him, eyes narrowing in suspicion, ‘It’s barely an hour past breakfast.’

‘And you’re already getting hungry.’ Merlin nodded sagely, and tapped the side of his head, ‘I know you, I can tell.’

Arthur’s looked at him incredulously, ‘I am not hungry, Merlin,’ he stated, ‘And there are still clothes to fold, so, Get. Back. To. It.’ And he smiled sweetly as he turned back to his writing.

Merlin scowled at the top of his head, glancing back at the door and wondering whether just leaving and then having to apologise later would be the best course of action. The egg wriggled against his sternum. Reluctantly, he dragged his feet back towards the laundry basket and re-started folding clothes, sending silent mental apologies to the dragon egg. Arthur glanced up at him and gave him a smug smile while Merlin glared at him.

The egg moved again inside the pouch, and he grunted slightly as a sharp shard of egg shell suddenly dug into his chest. Arthur looked up at him again, eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Merlin coughed slightly to try and cover up the noise. It was a good thing he did, because he could just hear the newly hatched dragon let out a high-pitched meep as it entered the world. Arthur looked at him like Merlin had gone crazy, which wasn’t a rare look on Arthur’s face, and yet Merlin couldn’t work out if he was judging him for having a coughing fit or for making high pitched squeaking noises.

Merlin finished folding the laundry in record time, and hurriedly excused himself with Arthur’s eyes boring into his back, and a squirming and wriggling dragon next to his chest. He raced through the castle, praying that no one would stop him or try and talk to him.

Fortunately, he got to his room safely, and wasted no time at all carefully pulling out the pouch from under his tunic. He slowly pushed his hand inside, felt a small nip of tiny teeth at his fingertips, and found the scaled body of the dragon amongst the shards of shell. He carefully pulled the dragon from the fabric and held it on his hand. It would be an understatement to say his heart actually melted.

The dragon was tiny, easily held within the palm of his hands, and blinking out at this new bright world with wide amber eyes. It stretched its little wings in the new space, and flicked its tail, before wrapping it securely around Merlin’s little finger. Merlin couldn’t help the coo that escaped his lips. Its scales were black, like the egg had been, shining and smooth. The dragon looked at him with vague interest, head tilting slightly to the side in curiosity. Merlin copied the action, and the little dragon’s head titled further, its neck almost contorting in an effort to twist further. Merlin chuckled at it, and was answered with a small snort from the dragon itself, small sparks flying out of its snout.

Merlin suddenly had the realization that this was how parents felt when they had a baby, and suddenly he realised that he would actually _die _for this dragon. And no, that wasn’t him being overly dramatic, that was just true. He also suddenly realized that he was responsible for a real live baby dragon. A small measure of panic started to bubble in his stomach at the thought of actually being the caregiver to this dragon. Before the panic could really seize him, however, the dragon sneezed in his palm, and Merlin decided right there and then that he would protect this dragon with everything he had, or he was not suitable for any sort of responsibility.

He stroked the dragon under its chin with one finger, and it pushed its head into the touch, its eyes falling shut.

‘Hmmm,’ Merlin pondered, ‘What to call you then?’

The baby dragon opened its eyes again to stare at him. They were bright and glowing, like flames, or the last embers of a fire.

Merlin pursed his lips in thought, and then said, ‘Ignis?’

The dragon chirped back, and Merlin grinned at it.

‘Alright then,’ he said quietly, ‘Welcome to the world, Ignis.’

***

It turned out (as Merlin should probably have expected), that raising a baby dragon was a lot harder than he anticipated. Which was fine. He was _fine_. It was just a bit stressful. And a bit scary to raise an animal. But it was also _insanely cute_.

The nights were relatively easy. Ignis curls up on top of his chest as he falls asleep, tail occasionally innocently flicking his cheek to try and get some attention. Sometimes they curl up by his hand, letting his fingers lazily run along their scales.

The late evening and early morning become good times for the little dragon to start to learn how to fly. They flap flap flap from one surface to another, not exactly flying smoothly but bobbing up into the air and then gliding to the intended destination. Sometimes they manage to get as high as the window sill and pull themselves up to perch on the ledge, gazing out at the big wide world beyond the glass planes. Merlin thinks they’re doing brilliantly.

They also learn to get out of the way whenever Gaius comes into the room, after a few occasions of Merlin throwing a blanket or something unceremoniously on top of them. Ignis seems to take great delight in watching Merlin get reprimanded for his messy room from the shadows of the wardrobe.

It’s the days that are more tricky, because no matter how much Merlin may want to, he can’t skive off his duties. Ignis typically spends the day wrapped around his neck, covered by the fabric of his neckerchief, and occasionally peering out over his collar. The situation seems to work fairly well, unless anyone gets too close to Merlin and speaks too loudly, which often results in angry hissing or squeaks emanating from the fabric around his throat. It was Gwaine who worried for a good week whether Merlin had lost his mind after he had clapped his friend on the shoulder, only for an angry screech to sound from Merlin’s neckerchief. Gwaine had blinked in surprise at the cloth, before Merlin himself has opened his mouth and made a very similar noise and cleared his throat a couple of times, looking at Gwaine with wide, innocent eyes. Gwaine had watched his back all the way down the corridor with an expression of utter confusion on his face, which Merlin had chuckled at later.

Then there’s the tickling. The main problem Merlin finds with having a dragon around his neck, is that that area of skin is quite sensitive, especially when brushed against softly with little scales or tiny claws. He sometimes has to try not to squirm while eating dinner with Gaius, and gets caught frequently itching his neck by Arthur, who demands to know whether he has fleas and is spreading them all over the castle with his clumsy antics.

He can’t even be angry at Ignis for it, because as soon as he pulls the dragon out to give them a stern reprimand, the dragon fixes their wide glowing eyes on him, and puts on a pitiful expression. Merlin would number one, like to find out where the hell the dragon managed to learn such a puppy dog expression, and number two, absolutely melts under the gaze. No amount of waving his finger around and announcing clearly what is acceptable and not when it comes to moving around under his neckerchief seems to have any impact on the dragon’s behaviour, and so he just decides to suck it up and let Ignis do whatever they want. He’s not a pushover parent, he’s just very lenient, and he’d like to see anyone be able to yell at a baby dragon looking so upset. He suspects Arthur probably could, but then again, he knows Arthur can be evil when he wants to be.

Another major problem becomes noticeable fairly quickly. It goes something along the lines of dragon plus being hungry equals needing food, which therefore means Merlin has to resort to stealing, as he doesn’t think Gaius would ever willingly give him extra food even if he pretended to lie on the floor and die of starvation. This problem quickly becomes major when Merlin finds out that baby dragons seem to always be hungry, and could probably eat themselves through a whole butcher’s shop if they could be bothered. This means Merlin essentially gains a new profession. Court sorcerer - for income and things, Manservant – assumedly so his ego doesn’t get too big, and professional thief – for feeding a baby dragon. He’s not very good at it.

He learns very quickly that trying to steal from the kitchens is an absolute no-go, and his early attempts result in lots of spoons being whacked across the backs of his hands, and a strict warning that they would tell the king if it happened again. Like Arthur controls his actions. Ha.

However, with the kitchen out of commission, he turns his sticky fingers towards simpler, but arguably more dangerous targets. Namely, the King’s meals. He knows he has had practise at such deception when he was trying to help Freya, and yet it makes the task no easier. Arthur is very fond of his sausages. And that makes him very possessive. Merlin’s tactics originally begin as; Step 1: Give the king his meal. Act completely casual. Step 2: Walk into something and cause as many things as possible to fall on the floor. Step 3: Simultaneously levitate any pieces of meat possible into a conveniently placed bowl by the door. Step 4: Try to convince Arthur that he has eaten more meat then he actually has. Step 5 (not actually a step, but just seems to happen anyway): Get yelled at by Arthur.

He quickly realises, however, that that doesn’t work with Arthur anymore, because the King now _knows he has magic_, and so he quickly realises that it’s Merlin who has taken the sausages. Merlin is nothing if not adaptable, and quickly just starts taking the meat off Arthur’s plate before giving it to him, and then explaining with practised sympathy that the kitchens have decided the King needs to go on a diet to keep in shape. It results in many things being thrown around, but Merlin quickly decides it is a price worth paying when he watches Ignis nibble on sausages, and rip rashes of bacon to pieces with miniscule fangs.

***

It gets harder as time goes on, because, as with most things, dragon grow when they get older. Ignis goes from being the length of a hand, to the length of a forearm in only a few months, and Merlin realises it’s pretty impossible to have an animal as big as a cat wrapped around his neck.

He ends up having to leave Ignis in his room during the day, warding the door tightly against noise and escaping dragons. It breaks his heart to see their little face watching him leave, and huffing against the cracks in the door, but it is a necessary evil. The first few times it happened, Ignis refused to interact with him when he got back at the end of the day. The dragon ended up giving him a look that could probably kill which said, ‘I can’t believe you’ve done this’, and then turned their back on him and refused to look at him for the rest of the night. They even refused to notice him waving bacon in their vague direction. Merlin went to bed feeling very guilty, but was luckily rewarded with a small dragon curled up against his chest when he woke up in the morning. Over time, Iggy’s separation anxiety seemed to improve, but Merlin still made it his mission to spend as much time as physically possible with the dragon.

Arthur quickly seems to realise that something has happened to make Merlin less attentive in his duties. Merlin always thought that he tried to get away from his jobs as quickly as possible at the end of each day, but apparently the prospect of a baby dragon waiting in his room makes him rush even more than usual. The king doesn’t point it out straight away, merely sends many assessing looks in Merlin’s direction and frowns at him over various reports. It isn’t until a day when Merlin can’t stop smiling (because Ignis had managed to scrabble up his cupboard and fly all the way to the opposite side of his room), that Arthur decides to speak out.

‘So, Merlin,’ he announces with false brightness one dinner time, with Gwen sat next to him. His eyes twinkle with suppressed mirth and mischief, and Merlin instantly gets a bad feeling in his stomach.

‘Yes, Sire?’ he asks calmly.

‘I was just wondering whether you had anything to tell us?’ Arthur asks, smiling brightly.

‘Um,’ Merlin frowns, not really knowing where this conversation is going, ‘About what?’

Arthur stares at him as though daring him to try and get out of this, ‘Oh I don’t know,’ he waves a hand vaguely, ‘Maybe about a certain special person?’

Merlin’s heart thuds as he wonders whether Arthur has somehow found out about Ignis and is only trying to confuse him by referring to them as a person. Although, he debates internally, he feels like if that was the case, Arthur would be doing a lot more shouting and a lot fewer smug smiles. He isn’t an expert, but he doubts that the words dragon and Arthur could ever be said together in a positive sentence.

He laughs haltingly, ‘What?’

‘Oh,’ Arthur says lazily, ‘I was just thinking that you’ve been rushing off so quickly each day like you have somewhere else to be, and not to mention you’ve been very happy lately, Merlin.’ His eyes bore into Merlin’s. ‘Positively glowing, and there’s a spring in your step. I was just wondering what significant other could have caused such a transformation.’

Gwen giggles quietly, and Merlin gets the distinct impression that he’s being teased. He replays what Arthur just said in his head, and then suddenly the penny drops. Arthur thinks he’s in a relationship.

Merlin splutters in surprise, frantically shaking his head, which he then realises probably doesn’t help his case. He tries to tell himself that this is better than Arthur actually knowing about the dragon, but now Arthur’s wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at him while grinning broadly, and Merlin just kind of wants to sink through the floor.

‘No!’ he says indignantly, and far too loudly. ‘There’s no one, Sire. Why would you even -?’ He can’t get the words out, and then decides to switch to insults in self-defence. ‘And if there was, why would I tell you, you dollophead?!’

Arthur tips his head back and laughs at Merlin’s reaction, not acting at all insulted by Merlin’s language. ‘It’s alright, Merlin, I’m just teasing.’

Merlin nods, stunned into speechlessness, and thankfully listens to the conversation switch to more normal subjects while his ears continue to burn in embarrassment.

He rushes out of the room as soon as he can (which he realises is just confirming Arthur’s view), and hurries back to his room. He throws himself onto his bed, and Ignis crawls out of the gap below it and pulls themselves up onto his chest. Merlin looks down at them, and rubs a finger under their chin. Their eyes close in contentment, and Merlin sighs.

‘You’re causing me a lot of trouble, you know?’ he says, exasperated. Ignis only flicks their tail in response.

***

There are other problems too as Merlin quickly discovers. And these problems are arguably more important than Arthur thinking he has a secret lover, because an unsupervised baby dragon is just that. And it turns out that that is fairly dangerous. He comes back one evening after a back-breaking day of mucking out the stables and cleaning Arthur’s armour to find Gaius trying to push open his door looking worried. The physician whorls around to face him as he enters the room, and says loudly,

‘I can’t get your door open!’

Merlin takes off his bag and moves forward, worried about the noise alerting Ignis that there are people around they could gain attention from.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asks hurriedly.

Gaius gives him an incredulous look and then points at the bottom of the door. Merlin follows his finger and then his heart drops to his feet. There’s smoke coming out from under the door.

‘Oh God,’ he chokes out, and is instantly reaching for the door, which opens easily under his own hand.

Gaius makes a move to step into the room too, but Merlin blocks the way, shoots his guardian an innocent smile, and says brightly ‘I’ll deal with it!’ Then he closes the door in Gaius’ face, muffling the indignant ‘Merlin!’ called after him.

In the room, it’s not as bad as he feared. His bed sheets have been dragged onto the floor, and their edges are singed. Some of them are still burning happily, not proper flames, but bright orange embers creeping along the cloth while smoke curls up into the air. Some of the parchment littered in the corner of the room are properly on fire, the flames quite small due to the lack on suitable fuel.

It’s next to these that Merlin finds the culprit. Ignis is sitting next to the flickering flames, back straight and head held high as through they’re incredibly proud of their accomplishment. Upon seeing Merlin enter the room, they chirp in greeting, and then give a ‘watch this’ look, before bending down, shaking their haunches, and opening their muzzle to release a jet of flame onto the burnt paper.

Merlin is torn between jumping for joy and beaming with pride at this major milestone in the dragon’s upbringing, and trying to get the fire out as quickly as possible before Gaius bursts in, and then potentially leaves Merlin in the room to burn when he sets eyes on the baby dragon. He settles for making suitably impressed noises, while dowsing the flames and embers with a few well-aimed spells.

Ignis seems to be in a brilliant mood as they rush around the room, jumping up and over furniture and knocking stuff over, and letting out high-pitched meeps of excitement. Merlin watches them fondly for a few moments, and then realises he probably needs an excuse for Gaius. He stands up, brushes off his knees and heads to the door.

Gaius is leaning against a table facing the doorway, with his arms crossed, and Merlin instantly feels like a naughty boy that’s been caught doing something awful. It’s obvious that the older man had put two and two together and come to the correct, damming conclusion. Any excuse dies on his lips, and he just shuffles his feet, waiting for Gaius’ verdict.

‘Merlin.’ Gaius says, exasperated and angry, and Merlin droops into himself. Suddenly, he feels very disappointed in himself.

‘I’m sorry, Gaius.’ He murmurs pleadingly.

‘A dragon? Really?’ Gaius snaps.

‘I couldn’t leave them. I had to help them. And they’re perfect, Gaius,’ he says, trying to make his guardian understand. He gestures towards his room, ‘You should see them, they’re amazing.’ And Merlin knows his words are ineffective. How can he make Gaius understand that for the last few months he’s been responsible for a tiny life gifted to him in trust? How can he explain that seeing Ignis fills his heart with warmth and joy, and that he _loves_ them so much?

Gaius isn’t to be swayed. ‘I don’t need to see them, Merlin. They can’t stay here.’

And Merlin wilts in front of him, realising the truth of the words, something he had been trying to forget about and ignore. A castle is no place for a growing dragon, and every day is just a day closer to other people finding out. He nods miserably, and Gaius’ frown finally softens into a look of sympathy.

He approaches Merlin, and wraps him in his arms. ‘I’m sorry, Merlin,’ he says softly, ‘believe it or not, I do know what it feels like to have an innocent and gentle soul put into my hands, and I wouldn’t want to give that up either.’

Merlin smiles against his shoulder, and squeezes him tight, then he lets him go and turns back to his room to pack.

***

They leave that same night, Merlin with a bag full of cooked meet and a rolled up blanket that smells of him. He doesn’t want Ignis to be alone in a strange place, without a memory of him, and he can’t bare the thought of Ignis getting too cold.

They creep along the stone corridors, the warlock with muffled footsteps and a softly scrabbling shadow on his heels. Ignis’ eyes are illuminated in the dim, and they gaze around with wonder as they scurry to different nocks and crannies to investigate.

Their escape is going very well in Merlin’s opinion, when Ignis obviously gets a whiff of something tasty, or familiar, and bolts off towards Arthur’s chambers. Merlin curses under his breath and takes off after them, skidding around the corner just in time to see Ignis slip through Arthur’s slightly ajar door. Obviously, they missed the King more than Merlin had anticipated.

Merlin hurries after them, peaking through the door and watching the small black shape illuminated by the moonlight scuttle under Arthur’s bed. Merlin spends a good minute looking up at the ceiling with a ‘why me?’ expression, and then quietly bangs his head into the stone wall, before edging into Arthur’s room.

He tiptoes across the open space, trying to avoid all pieces of furniture, and thanking anything he can think of that the full moon is providing a bit of light to see by. His eyes fall on Arthur’s sleeping form, sprawled out under the blankets and breathing deeply. He creeps ever closer, eyes flicking from the sleeping King to the gap under his bed.

He stops abruptly when a dragon-shaped shadow emerges again from under the bed, and foolishly thinks that Ignis has taken pity on him and has decided to come out of their own accord. Unfortunately, the dragon has obviously not taken notice of the gravity of the situation currently occurring, because instead of moving towards Merlin, they look up at the bed, pulling themselves up onto their hind legs and leaning on the mattress to see over it.

Merlin hisses ‘No, Ignis, come here!’ and furiously berates himself for not instigating stricter discipline regimes with the dragon when they just glance his way and blink lazily. They haul themselves up onto the mattress, and Arthur’s breath huffs slightly at the slight change of weight and quiet noises. Merlin puts his hands in his hair, internally panicking and trying desperately to stop it becoming external panicking, before squaring his shoulders and marching closer to the bed.

‘Ignis! You’re a very naughty dragon!’ he whispers as angrily as he can, ‘Don’t you dare move any further. Iggy, I am warning you!’

Ignis sadly isn’t listening to him at all. They seem very taken with the King’s fluffy duvet, jumping up and landing solidly on more fluffed-up bits as though pouncing on prey. Arthur grunts in his sleep, and Merlin doesn’t think twice before he swoops in and scoops Ignis up into his arms. Ignis lets out an annoyed screech, and Merlin freezes as Arthur jerks awake.

Merlin curses all of Arthur’s soldier instincts as the King becomes instantly alert, eyes finding Merlin within seconds. He bolts upright, and then exclaims, ‘Merlin?! What the hell are you doing?’

Merlin’s throat goes dry, but Ignis has no such problems as they let out a pleased squeak at the sound of someone else being conscious in their presence. Merlin clutches them to his chest, fear rising in his throat, and Arthur squints through the gloom, trying to make out the animal that Merlin is holding.

‘What is that?’ he asks dangerously.

‘A- A-‘, Merlin stammers, and then, ‘DOG!’ he announces far to loudly. Ignis makes an offended noise.

He can’t see Arthur’s expression well enough to know exactly what emotions are there, but he vividly imagines confusion cycling through to anger and onto ‘I’m going to start throwing things.’

The King scrambles out of bed, and Merlin knows he’s going for a candle and this is his only chance to get out, so he starts to make a run for it. Halfway to the door, light flickers behind him, and he slams into the side of a chair, arms instinctively opening to catch himself if he falls. Ignis glides out of them and swoops around the room, obvious in the candlelight.

‘Your dog has wings.’ Arthur says faintly from the bedside, and Merlin takes a deep breath and glances over his shoulder to see him. He’s staring at Ignis with wide eyes, but the hostility Merlin expected isn’t there. He supposes it’s not exactly something you expect to wake up to so abruptly. A dragon flying around your room. Although this is Camelot, and Merlin would probably argue that weirder things have happened.

‘Yeah.’ Merlin confirms, realising there’s no way to pretend Ignis is anything but what they are now.

The dragon glides down onto the bed in front of Arthur, because they’re obviously determined to give Merlin a million heart attacks in the course of one night.

Arthur gazes at the small creature as it pads towards him, looking up at him with wide amber eyes. He doesn’t back or shy away in a way Merlin might have expected, and tentatively Merlin starts walking towards the bed too.

Ignis makes a questioning squeak in Arthur’s direction, and Arthur blinks in surprise and then extends a hand for the dragon to investigate. Ignis sniffs it carefully, and then nips his fingertips, and then rubs his head on them. Merlin feels slightly offended as to how quickly Ignis seems to trust Arthur.

‘A dragon.’ Arthur breathes, almost to himself, and then he seems to realise exactly who has caused this creature to be on his bed, and his gaze snaps up to Merlin.

‘A dragon, Merlin, seriously?’ he says incredulously, and Merlin just hums an affirmation and nods.

‘How could you be so stupid!’ Arthur suddenly explodes, and Ignis flinches away from him, ‘A dragon! Of all things Merlin! And after the new rule too!’

‘In my defence –‘ Merlin starts, but Arthur cuts him off.

‘NO!’ Arthur bellows, and Merlin idly wonders whether half the castle has been woken up yet, ‘After all the other times, I thought you might have got it into you head that you can’t keep magical creatures! They’re DANGEROUS, Merlin, and you just swan around thinking you can save everything, and –‘

But then he breaks off, because Ignis interrupts him with an obviously unhappy noise. They’re hunched into themselves near the pillows, gazing up with wide, sad eyes. Arthur’s anger seems to flow out of him as he looks at the dragon, and then suddenly he’s on his knees, cooing softly.

‘I’m so sorry!’ he says, rubbing Ignis’ head with his palm, ‘I wasn’t yelling at you! I just think your daddy’s been very irresponsible!’

Merlin watches aghast as Ignis practically melts into the bed under Arthur’s ministrations and then feels a certain smugness. Who would have thought that a cute baby dragon could so easily get under Arthur’s skin? He was definitely going to use this for blackmail.

‘Awww you sweetie, are you going to go to sleep?’ Arthur is still fussing over Ignis, scratching their tummy as they flick their tail lazily and closes their eyes, ‘You good dragon.’

Arthur’s gaze flicks back to Merlin, a spark of exasperation appearing again in his eyes. He jabs a finger in Merlin’s direction.

‘We are talking about this tomorrow!’ he hisses quietly, ‘When it won’t disturb the dragon.’

Merlin nods in reluctant agreement. He doesn’t particularly want to have a conversation about it, because it will probably involve lots of yelling being directed at him, but he is feeling pleasantly buoyed by Arthur’s reaction to the dragon so far. He hasn’t stabbed it for one thing. Hadn’t even attempted it. And he also hasn’t murdered Merlin, so Merlin is counting it currently as a win-win situation.

He starts to back out of the room, watching Arthur slide under the covers next to Ignis.

‘Their name is Ignis, by the way,’ he tells Arthur, whose eyes crease slowly into a smile, ‘It means fire.’

Arthur nods slowly, carefully stroking the dragon’s cheek. Merlin smiles at the scene, and then once he’s within reach of the door, announces, ‘And they like to be cuddled!’

He successfully avoids the pillow thrown at him by ducking out of the room, and wanders back to his own bed grinning broadly. And if he walks into Arthur’s room the next morning to find the King sprawled on his back with a baby dragon nuzzled up to his neck, well Merlin’s wise enough to know that is information to keep close to his chest until he really needs a favour from Arthur.

Also, Merlin decides as he opens the curtains, it is _really _cute. Maybe having a dragon around again, is exactly what Camelot needs.


End file.
